


The Safety Net

by Corinna



Category: Glee
Genre: Brothers, College, Don't they get together in the end?, Graduation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2013-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-15 09:46:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/848098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corinna/pseuds/Corinna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Blaine had grown up thinking his brother was a genius, and sometimes that was hard to shake.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>AU after 4x14 ("I Do"), with some canonical elements from later episodes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Safety Net

**Author's Note:**

> This story would not have seen the light of day without the beta help and encouragement of multicorn; I cannot thank her enough! 

When Kurt logged in for their unofficially-regular-but-certainly-not-a-date Wednesday night Skype session, he could tell something was up with Blaine. His hair was all ruffled, he was jittery, and his eyes looked even brighter than usual.

“Kurt,” he said, not even waiting for the usual pleasantries. “I got in. I _got in_.” 

For a moment, Kurt felt mostly shock — and worry underneath that, and anger, and even a little jealousy. But all of that was quickly overpowered by fierce pride, and a share of the happiness radiating off Blaine like the sun. “Congratulations,” he finally said. “Though I never had any doubts. You’re the ideal NYADA student.”

“I’m glad someone didn’t doubt it,” Blaine said, his face softening. “It means a lot that you believed in me, Kurt.”

“I know a great voice when I duet with one,” Kurt replied.

Blaine just laughed at that. “Well, thank you anyway. But wait, that’s not everything.”

“Oh?” 

“You remember the NYADA London program?” 

Kurt nodded. They’d looked at it in the admissions materials Kurt’s senior year, and in a series of giggly conversations in terrible English accents, they’d imagined attending the summer program there together.

“They’re expanding it into a whole affiliate campus. I — they want first-years, and they offered me a spot for the year, maybe longer. If I want it.”

“Do you?” Kurt’s dinner must have been disagreeing with him, because his stomach had started to clench.

Blaine’s good mood faded a little. “I don’t know. It’s a great opportunity, but then so is NYADA. I mean, New York!” Even through the terrible Skype connection, Kurt could tell he was going a little glassy-eyed. “I don’t even know how long I’ve been dreaming about it. And I know you say that it’s been important to be surrounded by the best of the best there, how it’s really helped you to really grow as an artist. I mean, for all of the advantages of a smaller program in London, I wouldn’t have anywhere near as many other students to challenge me. And I wouldn’t have you. Or Rachel,” he added quickly. “I mean, as friends.”

“You’d make other friends,” Kurt said. “People always like you.”

Blaine ducked his head at that. “Maybe. I guess?”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Blaine said, and the jittery look was back in his eyes. “That’s what — I could really use your opinion.”

“Mine? It’s your choice, Blaine.”

“I know! I know. And I don’t want to make the choice for anyone else. Just for me. But you’re still my best friend, and if I go to London, we wouldn’t see each other for a year, maybe more. Even Skyping, with the time difference, it wouldn’t be easy. No matter what we plan, we’ll talk less than we do now. It’ll separate us.”

Blaine paused for so long that Kurt finally had to say, “And?” Blaine slumped a little in his chair.

“And… well, I just — I wanted to know how you felt about it, that’s all. They’re both great programs, and I know I could be happy in either one. But I love you, Kurt. We’re part of each other forever, I know that now. I’m not going to ask you for anything you’re not ready for, and I hope that you’ll tell me if one of the things you’re not ready for is having me at NYADA.”

Kurt frowned. “I told you to apply in the first place, didn’t I?”

“A lot has happened since then,” Blaine said. “Look, just think about it, okay? There’s no rush.”

“That’s okay,” Kurt said. He was getting a headache now too, the sort that made his skull feel a size too small. “Blaine, listen. Of course you should come to NYADA if it’s what you want. You’d be great here. But London, that’s a great opportunity too. And… if I were you, that’s what I’d choose.”

“Really?” Blaine’s eyes went wide.

“Yeah.” Kurt swallowed hard and continued. “Like you said, it’s a great opportunity. Small classes, a new program, _London_. It’ll be amazing. We’ll stay in touch, Blaine, I promise. Even if it’s just emails. You’re my best friend too. But please don’t wait for something I can’t promise you.”

“I’m not,” Blaine said. He looked like he’d been punched. “I wouldn’t be. But …thank you. I appreciate your honesty.”

“Well, at least we can try to do that for each other,” Kurt said. His mouth was dry and acidic. He needed some Pepto, badly. “I should — I should go.”

“Okay,” Blaine said. “Me too.”

Two doses of Pepto-Bismol and some Tylenol later, Kurt still felt sick and headachey. Someday, he told himself, he was going to learn to skip the deli sushi if he was eating any time after the lunch rush.

\- - - - -

The computer screen went dark as the call ended. Blaine grabbed the pencil cup off his desk and threw it across the room. It went fast, and it made a satisfying clattering crash when it hit the wall, spraying pens and pencils everywhere, but as soon as it landed on the floor, he felt stupid. 

This was _such_ a bad idea. He should have seen it. Taking Cooper’s advice on anything was a mistake, he knew that rationally, but he’d grown up thinking his brother was a genius and sometimes that was hard to shake. Besides, Coop was good with girls, always had been, and not just because he was so handsome. He knew the right things to say and do: how to make the girls he liked like him back, and how to keep things swoony and romantic until he lost interest. Watching Cooper with his high school and college girlfriends had made Blaine realize that girls didn’t move him the way they moved Cooper, and seeing how easy it was for Cooper to find just the right thing to say or do had taught Blaine that he was never going to be any good at romance.

So when Cooper had asked over the phone “How’s it going with Kurt?” Blaine had told him, told him all of it, everything that had happened since he and Cooper hadn’t seen each other at Christmas. Cooper had cut him off a little during the story about Valentine’s Day and the weekend after, but otherwise he’d been supportive in a way he almost never was.

“You’re doing all the right things, Blainers,” he’d said. “Let him come to you. But if I could make one small suggestion?”

“What?” Blaine had asked warily.

“Just be careful he doesn’t get too comfortable getting stuck in between. If he knows you’re just waiting there, well, that’s a safety net, right? You don’t want to be the safety net! The whole point of a safety net is that you never want to have to use it.”

Blaine’s heart had sunk, hearing the truth of that. “What do I do?”

“Give him a push. Don’t make it a choice, some big now-or-never moment, but make it real for him. You’re what he wants: make him see that. And maybe the way to do that is to make him realize that you might not always be there when he snaps his fingers.”

“I’m not that bad.”

Cooper’s pause on the other end suggested he maybe thought different. “I’m not saying you have to give up holding your giant torch for him. Come up with some creative way to make yourself a tiny little bit unattainable. Remind him that it’s his move.”

Blaine had spent a lot of time after that phone call trying to figure out how to keep himself from being a safety net, and he hadn’t come up with anything until the NYADA letter arrived. His hands shaking in happiness and relief, he’d looked at the information about the London program and imagined two victories in one: a spot at NYADA and Kurt back in his arms.

Maybe it was too big, Blaine thought as he picked up the pens that had gotten scattered by his outburst. Maybe the choice of London or New York had been too now or never. Of course Kurt had spooked. Blaine knew he wasn’t ready to commit again, not when he was still holding on to how badly he’d been hurt. He understood, and he was ready to wait Kurt out, with patience and persistence and the occasional booty call. 

Only, there wouldn’t be any hookups if Blaine went to London, would there? He wouldn’t accidentally run into Kurt in the hallways between classes, compliment him on his outfit, and act surprised when Kurt dragged him into a janitor’s closet. (Not that Blaine had spent _any_ time on that particular fantasy.)  There would be only the occasional Skype, bloodless emails and postcards, and nothing else until Christmas. At least they could have their Christmas together; Blaine wasn’t ready to break that streak. 

But if that was what Kurt wanted, if that was what Kurt thought was the best, shouldn’t he at least consider it? Heading to New York now, when Kurt had urged him to choose London, seemed like it would risk being pushy. And he hadn’t been lying — if Kurt wasn’t a factor, he’d be equally excited for both options. So maybe London was the right choice. He could try it for a year. 

Maybe absence would make Kurt’s heart grow fonder. Maybe it would finally make the crazy pounding love in Blaine’s own heart not go away, not _ever_ go away, but become something he could live with the difficulty of, like the way Kurt talked about his love for his mom. He could experiment with dating his own English guy, blond and tall and disgustingly charming, and he could ask Kurt for tips on cross-cultural communications, and that would be the little thing that tipped Kurt over the way Cooper said it would. 

Or maybe he needed to get over it, Blaine told himself as he collected the last of the pens from under his bed. That was an option too.

\- - - - - 

Having a father who was a popular congressman in their home district did Kurt almost no good on a daily basis. Sure, it meant he’d gotten an invitation to the Ohio state delegation’s inaugural ball, but with work and school he couldn’t go. And it meant he finally got some positive attention in Lima, just when he’d left and could no longer benefit from it. Worst of all, it meant that every once in a while, his dad or one of his aides would call him and ask him if he’d do an appearance, or a talk, or a photo for a mailer. Kurt knew it was expected of him as a member of a political family, and that it was good practice for his own eventual success in the arts, but it still made him uncomfortable to be so watched, to be wanted for his life story and not his talent. 

Every once in a while, though, it was worth it, even beyond the obvious good thing of his dad’s successes. And when Carole had called and asked if he could do a talk at the LGBT & Allies Club at the University of Lima the day before the McKinley High graduation, it felt like a gift. 

 _What time is graduation on Thursday?_ he texted Finn.

 _It’s Wednesday_ , Finn replied.

 _Since when?_ McKinley High graduations had always been on Thursday evenings, as far back as Kurt could recall.

_Since Figgins is having a colon exam live on local news Thurs. Ugh._

Kurt would have really liked to see his friends graduate. The last of the original New Directions, and Blaine: it would have been nice. But when it turned out they couldn’t move the talk, since it was part of a larger event, he sighed and chalked it up to fate. Maybe it was better to keep a little distance. Still, he told himself, it was the right thing to do, to stop by the school before heading to his talk. He’d be rude not to. 

It was early evening, late enough in June that the sky was still light, when he pulled up to the high school in his dad’s beater pickup. The thing drove like a tank, but it had “Hummel for Congress” on the side, so Carole had insisted. Climbing down, he smoothed out his jacket and tie, and reflexively scanned the parking lot. Artie’s car, with the handicapped sticker in the back window, was just a few spaces away. Finn’s, parked closer to the school entrance. No one else he recognized offhand. 

Walking through the halls was like being there now and inside of a memory at the same time. He could almost feel the younger version of himself at his side, navigating these same halls, scared out of his wits but refusing to show it. He passed his old locker and ran his fingers over it reminiscently, did the same for Rachel’s. Blaine’s — he couldn’t even remember where Blaine’s locker was this year. He didn’t know why that would make him sad. 

The Glee club was in the auditorium, getting ready for a rehearsal. They were performing again this year, some treacly inspirational song that Finn had picked and Kurt had never heard of: living in New York had its unexpected perks. When he walked through the auditorium doors, his stepbrother turned and waved.

“Kurt! You made it.”

“I can’t stay. Your mom would kill me.”

“I know,” Finn said. “But I’m glad you’re here. Want to run through it once with us?”

Kurt looked at the gathered New Directions crew: Tina, Artie, Sam, Brittany, Sugar, Joe, and a bunch of people he didn’t really know. Blaine wasn’t there yet. It was familiar and not, all at the same time.  

“Oh, I need to save my voice,” he said, making a show of his regret. “But, you know, break a leg, everyone. And congratulations!”

He went around and hugged all of the graduating seniors. Tina whispered love in his ear, Sam slapped his back, and Brittany reassured him that he was still her favorite unicorn, which he found more heartwarming than he would have thought it could be. He kept waving as he headed back out into the halls, wandering a little and remembering.

“Kurt!” Blaine’s voice, so familiar, from somewhere behind him. Kurt fixed his tie and his smile, and turned around. 

All of the Andersons were there, Blaine’s parents and his ridiculously handsome older brother. Blaine was already dressed in his graduation gown, which hung open over his twill check suit like some scarlet wizard’s robe. Kurt was used to the pull his body felt towards Blaine, the physical urge of attraction that had made Valentine’s Day so enjoyable, but that didn’t mean it left him unaffected. His ex-boyfriend was hot.

“Hi,” Kurt said, and when Blaine reached him, he leaned in for a hug unselfconsciously. “Congratulations.”

Blaine’s smile was wide and generous. “You came to graduation?”

“I wish I could. I’ve got this thing. For Dad. I just came to say hi to everyone.”

“Oh,” Blaine said. “Well, that’s nice. Say hi to your dad for me.”

“Can I meet you for coffee tomorrow, maybe? Celebrate your success?”

Blaine winced. “I can’t. I’m — well, I’m flying out to LA for the summer tomorrow.”

Kurt wasn’t sure what he’d heard. “LA?”

“Yeah. Cooper — you remember Cooper,” Blaine nodded towards his brother, who nodded at Kurt in turn. Blaine’s parents just stood there a safe distance away, looking concerned. “He’s got a new place, with a second bedroom. I’m going to be his roommate for the summer.”

“Wow. That’s… that’s great.” 

“It should be. I’m taking acting classes — _actual_ acting classes,” he added under his breath, “— and Cooper and I are going to learn how to surf.”

“I’m expanding my artistic palette to include the beach,” Cooper said.

“So it should be really good,” Blaine finished. 

“Wow,” Kurt repeated, still disoriented. “Los Angeles to London. You’re a real world traveler now.”  Blaine smiled at that, and maybe looked a little nostalgic. “Keep me posted on your progress catching a wave?”

“I will,” Blaine said. Behind him, Mr. Anderson cleared his throat. “Oh, we should go.”

“Yeah. I just came from the auditorium; they’re getting warmed up.”

“Oh, shit, am I that late? I really should go. Sorry.”

“Break a leg,” Kurt said automatically. Blaine turned to go again, but he couldn’t let it end on that, so he grabbed Blaine’s hand, pulling him back.

“Kurt?”

“I just wanted to say… you did it, Blaine. You made it out.”

Blaine’s expression turned softer and more private, the way he looked when they were together alone. He ran his thumb across the edge of Kurt’s hand. “We both did,” he said. Then he released Kurt’s hand and rejoined his family.

The Andersons walked towards the auditorium, Cooper slinging his arm around Blaine’s shoulder and pulling him close, saying something into Blaine’s ear. Kurt stood and watched them go: his past, walking away.

The Celebration of Pride at the University of Lima was a pretty low-key event. Kurt gave his standard talk about safe schools and his dad’s record, and got more applause for it than usual. He had to sit politely and smile through the speaker from the mayor’s office and the university president. By that point, he was ready to go, but one of the event organizers saw him gathering his things and sat down next to him. 

“You can’t go yet!” she said. “The good part is about to start.” 

He smiled politely and settled back onto his seat. Politics was pain. “The good part? You’ve piqued my interest.”

The good part turned out to be performances. The first one was a tiny butch-looking woman with a big mezzo who sang a k.d. lang song — cliched, but effective. Next, a chorus came on stage: a dozen students, two of them carrying guitars. A skinny red-haired boy stepped out for a solo. 

“My name’s Josh,” he said, “and I’m vice-president of the LGBT and Allies club here on campus. I always make sure to say ‘and Allies,’ because allies are important. Life can be a battle, and you need people by your side. We’re the Tunefoils, and this song is for the people who have been there for all of us. We love you.”

One of the guitarists started to play, and Josh began to sing a familiar tune. _You can play the game and you can act out the part, though you know it wasn’t written for you._ He had a beautiful light tenor that fit the song, and Kurt leaned back and listened, lulled by familiarity and beauty. He’d heard this song a hundred times on the radio, growing up. His dad might snort and call it sappy, but Kurt didn’t remember him changing the channel.

 _Shower the people you love with love_ , sang the chorus, four-part harmony reasonably well-arranged, and Kurt could feel the music buzzing gently inside him. Such a simple song, but it did what it set out to. The chorus was into it, too: their enthusiasm reminded him of some of his own favorite performances, letting go and singing your heart on the stage.

 _And what d’you plan to do with your foolish pride when you’re all by yourself alone?_ The lyrics might not be Cole Porter, but they had their moments. Kurt found himself transfixed. You’ve got to hold the people you love close to you no matter what, Dad had said, _shower the people you love with love,_ and now his dad was in DC and Blaine was — Blaine was really gone. Kurt found himself blinking back tears. 

It’s the music, he reminded himself sternly, but as the song continued, his mind kept racing. Blaine was gone. He would be thousands of miles away starting tomorrow, and Kurt hadn’t gotten one last night with him to tide himself over, hadn’t been able to touch him and taste him again. It wasn’t fair. _Show them the way that you feel,_ the chorus sang, and like an idiot Kurt found himself nodding along. _Things are going to be much better if you only will._ He should have, a while ago.

He turned to the event organizer, still sitting next to him, as soon as the song was over. “I really have to go,” he said, and left.

In the parking lot, he texted Finn again. _Are you still there?_

 _After-party in the choir room_ , Finn replied. They always had fruit punch and cookies in the choir room after graduations. Just last year Blaine had been there for him, rubbing soothing circles on his back every time someone’s parent asked him about college. How had things gone so wrong between them? 

He got in the truck, which grumbled at him and took two tries to start, and the steering wheel fought with him a little as he pulled out into the street. “Best mechanic in town, my ass,” Kurt muttered. 

The University of Lima was halfway across town from McKinley, and every time he tried to take the truck above 60 it started to shake. “Dad, we’re having a long talk in which I explain to you the story about the shoemaker and his children,” Kurt yelled at the empty air. It was past eight o’clock already, past the time when the first parents would start to check their watches and come up with excuses: he couldn’t miss the Andersons, or he’d have to drive this sorry excuse for a pickup all the way to their house and then — what? Ring the doorbell like nothing had changed? 

Blaine had lost faith in them for a night, but he’d never stopped loving Kurt, he’d made that so clear. It was Kurt who was willing to throw away everything they had for his foolish pride, Kurt who couldn’t even begin to process the betrayal, let alone let it go. It was Kurt who was stupid enough to tell himself he wasn’t still watching the calendar, waiting for September and Blaine, and really stupid enough to send Blaine off to London, where he was going to meet some charming English guy and maybe actually fall in love with him. Wouldn’t that be exactly the punishment Kurt deserved for his stubbornness, his foolish pride, and the slowest goddamned truck in the upper Midwest.

Kurt was still trying to find the words he wanted to say when he pulled back into the McKinley lot. Eight-thirty. Most of the cars were gone, but Finn’s was still there, and Artie’s, so he just pulled in as close as he could get to the door and hoped for the best. His shoes squeaked on the linoleum floors as he ran.

When he got to the choir room, only Finn, Artie, and some of the new kids were still there. Finn took one look at Kurt and said, “Dude, you just missed him.”

“What?”

“Like, they just left a minute ago.”

“No, I just came from the parking lot —”

“They drove in with Tina.” Tina had an unshakeable belief that parking in the smaller parking lot on the east side of the school was the only good choice, a belief she would defend in numbing detail if asked. “Go.”

“Get yo’ man, son!” Artie called, but by that point, Kurt was already gone.

\- - - - - 

“Wait, is that a picture of you in a superhero costume?” Cooper squinted at the CONGRATULATIONS CLASS OF 2013 photo mural outside the cafeteria like he couldn’t believe his eyes.

Blaine huffed a little exasperated sigh. “I was the club president. We do charitable fundraisers and, you know, good deeds.”

Cooper put a brotherly hand on his shoulder. “I get that being gay is not a choice, squirt, but dressing up as a superhero when you’re not being filmed? That’s something you probably should seek help for.”

“Whatever. We practically ran this school, okay?” It had been a better year than he could have imagined when Kurt left: class president, glee club lead singer, the Secret Society of Superheroes, and most of all Tina and Sam, the friends who’d kept him coming to school when he was so weighed down by sadness he could barely get out of bed. He was proud of what he’d accomplished, and actually happy with the future out ahead of him — the chances he’d taken when he let go of Kurt — and he wasn’t going to let his brother step on that. Not today.

Blaine started walking away, but his mother caught up with him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “He means well,” she said. “I thought you were very noble as Nightbird, sweetheart.”

“I do have some contacts at Marvel,” Cooper said, still looking at the mural. “Have you ever considered voice work?”

\- - - - - 

Kurt wasn’t particularly athletic in high school, and he’d done just enough in glee club dance rehearsals to get by. But NYADA had forced him into his body: dance classes and voice training and lots of working out, all so he could be leaner, stronger, easier to cast. He’d never been more grateful for that than now, running through these all-too-familiar hallways, trying not to let his dress shoes slide and trip him. He was going faster than he ever could have in high school, his tie loose and flapping at him as he went, and it still might not be fast enough.

He turned the last corner, by the cafeteria, and there they were, the Andersons, in front of the long wall where the school always put the yearbook’s photo mural. He stopped too fast, skidding hard into the turn, and he hit the wall flailing.

“Kurt! Are you okay?” Blaine was walking towards him at a fast trot, still gripping the rolled piece of paper that wasn’t actually a diploma. The setting sun was coming in through the windows behind him, framing him in golden light. 

“Blaine.” He wanted to run to him like the scene in _The Notebook_ , even though they were only a few yards apart, and Blaine’s whole family was watching. He wanted to throw his arms around Blaine’s neck and not let go. But he couldn’t; after all the running, he still didn’t know what to say now that Blaine was right there in front of him.

“Kurt?” 

Blaine was looking at him with wide hopeful eyes. Kurt wanted so much to reach out to him, but even now, it was like there was a deep dark pit between them that he didn’t know how to cross. It was the pit he’d spent the whole previous year digging his way out of, fear and failure and the despair of losing Blaine. He’d pulled himself up by his fingernails, with small victories and large ones and all the effort he could throw at his dreams. He’d finally arrived at the far side stronger and braver and wiser, just like all the diva songs he’d ever sung had promised. He survived. He’d overcome. But back on the other side, across the dark chasm, there was still Blaine.

He couldn’t bear the thought of hurting again. But either he risked it, or he left now. There was Blaine, or there was the calm cool safety of solitude.

Put that way, it almost didn’t seem like a hard choice. He took a deep breath, and he jumped.

\- - - - -

Blaine had almost managed to herd his family out of McKinley one last time when he heard the footsteps coming down the long corridor, fast and loud. For a moment, he was back on the day of the shooting, with the Lima Police SWAT team storming down the hall outside the choir room, but then the steps came closer and it was _Kurt_ , of all people, Kurt with his perfect hair and gorgeous gray suit, skidding around the corner, hitting the wall as he turned, and righting himself again as suave as anyone could be. Blaine was already moving towards him, calling his name, before Kurt even stopped moving. But when Blaine got close, Kurt just stood there, staring at him.

“What —” Blaine started, but Kurt shook his head vehemently, his face full of fear and some wilder emotion. So Blaine waited.

When Kurt’s expression cleared, and he took a deep breath, Blaine thought he was going to say something, add something more substantial to the goodbye from earlier. But instead he put his hands on Blaine’s arms, leaned in, and kissed him.

God, it had been so long, long enough that his brain couldn’t even process it at first. Then something clicked, and he was kissing Kurt back, and it was _fantastic_. So fantastic, and familiar in all the best ways: they still fit together so sweetly, Kurt’s mouth on his mouth, his lips soft and familiar, Kurt’s hands warm on his body. He wrapped his arms around Kurt’s waist, pulling him closer. Even through the stupid red robe he could feel the buttons of Kurt’s jacket pressing against his chest, and he opened his mouth to Kurt’s, deepening the kiss.  

His cap fell to the ground, breaking the spell, and he was suddenly very aware of the surroundings: the school, the hallway, his brother and his parents. He pulled back reluctantly, and Kurt kissed him one more time, slow and sweet, before letting him go. They stared at each other dizzily. Blaine was still breathless.

“Stay,” Kurt said.

“What?”

Kurt got that look, the one that meant he was powering through something difficult. “Stay with me. Not here, you know what I mean. But in New York. Come back to New York with me.”

“Kurt…” Blaine’s lips were tingling and his head was spinning and he couldn’t possibly have heard that right.

“I know, I’m being ridiculous. And London! It’s so selfish of me to ask you to give that up. It’s going to be a great program, and if you want it, it’s where you should be.” 

Every part of that was so backwards, and so wonderful, that Blaine had to kiss him again. When they separated, it was Kurt’s turn to be dazed. “So. That’s a yes?”

Blaine could only nod at first, but then it hit him, the entirety of what Kurt was asking for. He thought of Cooper’s arm slung around his neck as they’d walked away from Kurt before graduation, the whispered _you handled that so well, squirt, I’m proud of you._ Blaine would probably never admit it, not even under duress, but Cooper had been a pretty good brother this year. Well, he was trying hard to be, anyhow. “No. I mean, yes, but not yet.”

“Okay…” Kurt’s eyebrows furrowed adorably. Blaine wanted to kiss him again.  

“I’m going to LA tomorrow,” Blaine said firmly. “I’ve been looking forward to it, you know? The sun, the sand, convertibles. And my ticket is bought and everything.” 

“Okay…” 

“And I think Coop needs my share of the rent. Not that he’d admit it.” Blaine shot a look back at his brother, safely out of hearing range. Cooper winked and gave him an almost discreet thumbs-up. “But the fall, if NYADA will let me — I’d like that. New York. I’d like that a lot.” 

Kurt’s whole face got brighter. “Blaine. If you’re sure…”

“I’m really sure. Are you?”

“I wasn’t. But I am now.” Kurt reached for his hand again. “I’ll be honest: it’s scary. But I think I’d rather be scared with you than alone.”

Blaine hadn’t even known how much he’d still been weighed down with sadness until the feeling lifted, and suddenly he felt like he could fly. “Me too,” was all he could trust himself to say. “Kurt, me too.” 

Kurt laughed a little at that, almost disbelieving. Blaine let go of his hand and pulled him into a hug, reaching up so that his chin could notch across Kurt’s shoulder, the way he liked it to, and Kurt curled into the hug, leaning his head against Blaine’s, and it was the best graduation anyone had ever had, ever.

“So,” Blaine said, when he’d made himself let go again. “Anderson graduation tradition. We’re going to go get ice cream. Do you want to come?”

“Oh! Oh, sure. But I have to stop at the garage first.” Burt wasn’t in town, Blaine knew that, and his confusion must have shown because Kurt added, “I have the campaign truck. I don’t know why Dad keeps that thing on the road: it’s a menace. The tires need to be rotated and balanced, the steering’s a mess, and I’ll be honest, I’m concerned about the starter motor too. I’ll leave a note for Eddie for the morning.”

Kurt ticked off the problems with the truck on his long fingers. God, he was so hot, Blaine was having trouble concentrating. “You’ll get a loaner?”

“I guess. There’s probably one in the shop.”

Blaine let his hand trace the contours of Kurt’s lapel. “Could you get one with a decent back seat? That Prius really cramps my style.”

Kurt was trying very hard to look unaffected, but his face was flushed and his ears had turned bright red. “I… If the Lincoln’s there, that could work.” 

“Good. We’ll be at the Dairy Queen.”

“I’ll see you there.” Kurt started walking backwards towards the main exit again, still looking at Blaine a little starry-eyed. Since October, Blaine had gotten used to the idea that he’d seen that look on Kurt’s face for the last time. Turned out, it was even sweeter than he’d remembered.

“Kurt doesn’t want to join us for ice cream?” his mother asked, coming up behind him with a careful hand on his shoulder.

Blaine turned to face her and let himself grin. “It’s okay, Mom. He might meet us there later.”

“Are you sure? He’s more than welcome.”

“He needs to drop off the campaign truck first.” He offered her an elbow, the way his dad had taught him to when he was small, and she wrapped her arm around it with a nostalgic smile. “Besides, this way I get to spend more time with you.”

“I don’t know how you boys ended up such charmers,” she said. “But I approve.”

As the four of them walked out towards his dad’s car, Cooper pulled Blaine into one of his hugs that was more like an excuse for a headlock. Blaine wriggled his way out of it — being short came in handy sometimes — but Cooper still crowed like he’d won the big game. “I told you!”

“It’s not like that, Coop.”

Cooper leaned in and punched him in the shoulder, hard enough to hurt. “It is. I told you. A little hard to get never hurt a relationship! Keep him guessing. Now, the next thing to do —”

His brother was so excited for him, and it was heartwarming and irritating all at once. Had he really signed up for six weeks of this? “Cooper, please stop talking.”

“I’m serious! Your next move is critical in re-establishing the relationship dynamic. It’s like acting. You need to find your truth, and then dynamically oppose it.”

Blaine couldn’t help rolling his eyes as he got into the backseat of his dad’s Lexus. Maybe he could cut short his stay in Los Angeles after all.


End file.
